McGee's guide to wrecking Tony's date
by OzGeek
Summary: An accidental drugging results in McGee wrecking Tony's perfect date. Two longish chapters.
1. An unexpected propsal or two

**Chapter 1: An unexpected proposal – or two**

When the last of the onlookers had dispersed and the local LEOs had returned to their more mundane tasks, the only traces of humanity at the crime scene were four NCIS agents, two medical examiners and the remains of a female corporal.

Gibbs scanned the site: the overnight rain had rendered the ground boggy and ripe with the scent of decaying matter, both vegetable and human, but it was not the partially buried body that caught his attention, it was the glints of sunlight off something protruding from the muddy earth. Closer inspection revealed a mound of discarded hypodermic syringes.

He looked up to see who was least busy. "McGee, get the sharps container."

"What've got, Boss," said McGee, slightly out of breath from his haste.

"Syringes: and lots of them. Pack them in but be careful: these things can pierce a glove and a finger without you even knowing about it."

McGee nodded curtly, acknowledging the danger: "Right boss."

* * *

Inserting the last syringe into the thick plastic sharps container, McGee hoisted himself wearily to a stand and began the short but arduous plod to the van. The light-headed sensation hit just a few feet from his target and he froze in his tracks to let it pass. But pass it didn't: instead it took up residence somewhere in his frontal lobe and invited nausea over for the housewarming.

He tried to judge the distance to the van. What had looked so reassuringly close only moments ago was now retreating rapidly before his eyes. Fearing it would soon disappear over the horizon, he made a desperate lunge for the open door and was surprised when his fingers made contact. Swaying unsteadily, he felt his way down the door to the floor of the van, climbed in clumsily and tried to work out how to turn around so he could sit with his legs dangling outside. Once his aim had been achieved, he leant against the side to stabilise himself letting the world spin giddily around him.

* * *

Gibbs checked the site to see what was left to do before they headed off home. Ducky and Palmer were already on their way with the mud-caked body, Tony was still sketching, Ziva was looking for anything left to bag and McGee was….somewhere. Frowning, he looked back to the van and saw McGee slumped on the rear lip looking out at the rest of them working diligently.

"Hey, McGee," he called out. "Feel like joining us?"

No response.

Gibbs squared his shoulders and yelled. "McGee!"

Not a movement.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Gibbs stomped over to stand directly in front of his charge.

"Mc…" the far away look in McGee's red-rimmed eyes stopped him dead. Cautiously, he tapped him on the face with a gentle: "McGee?"

McGee's eyes wobbled to an unsteady equilibrium in Gibbs' direction. "Hey Boss," he slurred with a sloppy grin. "You've got nice blue eyes."

Gibbs rolled his nice blue his eyes. "Thank you, McGee."

"Would you marry me?"

Gibbs mouth hung open for a moment then he let out the breath he had been holding and turned away. "Tony, Ziva: pack it up. McGee's got a stick injury."

Tony and Ziva approached curiously.

"Hello," McGee waved happily, nearly tipping out of the van.

"Help me get him in the front, DiNozzo," Gibbs directed, taking an arm. "We need to strap him in. Ziva: you're in the back."

Ziva grunted her disapproval as McGee staggered past.

"You're pretty," he gushed.

"Thank you, McGee," she said stiffly sliding his gun out of its holster and tucking it out of harms way.

"Would you marry me?"

"Common Casanova," Gibbs tugged him forwards.

Pouring McGee into the front seat was akin to building a sky-scraper out of jello: there was nothing to sustain the structure. Eventually Tony crawled into the driver's side and held him steady while Gibbs rammed the door home.

"Is he strapped in?" asked Gibbs, starting the engine.

Tony gave the seatbelt a couple of experimental tugs while McGee looked on with childish interest. "We're good to go."

McGee looked up at Tony with gooey green eyes. "You're so nice to me." With that he snuggled against Tony's shoulder, wrapped one arm across him and, with a contented sigh, fell sound asleep.

Tony's face contorted slowly into an expression of disgust, a look he continued to maintain for the entire trip back to headquarters. Every time he began to peel McGee away he would grunt, tighten his grip, nuzzle him fondly and drift off to sleep again. The task proved no easier when they finally reached headquarters: each attempt being met by a hearty swipe.

"I have an idea," said Ziva.

Gibbs stepped back to give her room and the flash went off in Tony's eyes.

Ziva smiled. "I didn't say it was an idea that would help you."

"You'll keep," Tony threatened ominously.

Between the three of them, they managed to manoeuvre McGee into autopsy by letting him drape against a rather horrified Tony.

Ducky was waiting for them. "Lay him down on a gurney."

"We can try," Gibbs offered.

And try they did: several times. Each time McGee rose to follow Tony just as he made good his escape.

Ducky was beginning to get exasperated. "For goodness sake Tony, just let him hold something."

Tony shot Ducky a grumpy look but did as he was told, offering McGee an arm to cradle lovingly while Gibbs held him down from the other side of the table.

"Right," said Ducky when he was finally satisfied. Leaning over the gurney, he peeled McGee's eyelids upwards, noting the extensive pupil dilation. "Can you hear me, Timothy?"

"Hmm."

"I'm going to take a blood sample for Abby."

"She's nice."

"Yes, she's a lovely girl and she's going to help us find out what's wrong with you."

"OK."

Ducky handed the two resulting vials to Jimmy. "One to Abby, so we can get an immediate fix on what he's got running through there and one to the lab to see if he's picked up any real nasties." Ducky turned to his medical bag and pulled out another hypodermic, filling it with fluid. "And this," he said to McGee, "is a tetanus shot."

"Shouldn't we get him to a hospital?" asked Tony.

Ducky snorted. "In this weather, the waiting room will be full to overflowing. By the time he gets a bed, it'll be out of his system. We'll see what Abby finds first. In the meantime," he dragged round a tall metal stand with a plastic bag and IV drip line hanging from the top, "we'll see if we can flush it out."

He inserted the needle and checked in with McGee whose eyelids were hovering at half mast. "Ok down there?"

"Sleepy," McGee mumbled.

Ducky patted him on the shoulder. "Get some rest, my boy. You'll feel better when you wake up."

* * *

Abby bounded into autopsy holding a piece of paper aloft and chanting: "Ducky, Ducky, I got it!"

Ducky looked up from his computer. "McGee's blood test?"

"Yep!" She handed Ducky the paper and bounded over to McGee who was staring at her blearily. "How is he?"

"OK: given these results. He's been in an out of consciousness for the last hour or so. I'll just get the others down here."

Abby looked down at McGee who was trying to get her into focus.

"You're pretty," he mumbled.

"You're not too bad yourself," she replied cheerily.

"Would you marry me?"

Abby froze. "What?"

McGee smiled at her and, before she had time to react, pulled her mouth down onto his, sucking with the pressure of an industrial vacuum cleaner, one hand holding her head firmly in place to prevent escape. Abby made urgent muffled whimpering noises as she pushed frantically against him, trying to catch Ducky or Jimmy's attention but it was only when the three agents walked in that McGee was forcibly unwound from her body.

"You OK," Gibbs asked.

"McGee: he asked me to marry him."

"Hope you like harems," Gibbs informed her. "He asked me too."

"And me," said Ziva.

"And me," Jimmy chimed in.

Ducky looked up from checking Abby's results. "Oh yes, me too. He's the most popular boy in autopsy. Even gave our partially decomposed corporal the once over."

Abby looked crestfallen. "Not exactly a way to make a girl feel special, McGee," she pouted.

"Or a guy," Jimmy pointed out.

The director appeared at the autopsy door. "What's the verdict?"

"Oh, it's a veritable delight in there. He must have been stuck by every needle in that field."

McGee shot up from the gurney, his wide eyes focused on the director. "Wow those are huge!"

Jenny looked around the room for an explanation.

"Why can't all the female agents have breasts like that?" McGee continued, unperturbed. "I mean these two are fine', he waved vaguely in the direction of Ziva and Abby, "but even added together they don't come close to the size of those!"

Ziva and Abby sized each other up and then checked out the director.

"He has a point, boss," Tony said under his breath.

"I have a point! She has two! Just look at those babies."

"All right, Timothy," said Ducky kindly, urging him to lie down again. "We get the message." He turned to the Director. "I think removing the female of the species from the room might be prudent at this point."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," she said and the three women left hurriedly.

"Hospital?" asked Gibbs.

"Not if someone can watch over him tonight. He should be right as rain in the morning."

Faces turned expectantly to Tony who fumbled back a step. "Oh, boss I've got this date tonight."

"DiNozzo."

Tony sighed, defeated.

"Right boss."


	2. Keeping up appearances

Chapter 2 : Keeping up appearances.

Tony desperately tried to slide his key in the lock while McGee swayed ominously against him. It was a near thing but he managed to get them both into the apartment before his neighbors noticed.

As the door closed, Tony sighed dejectedly: his apartment was in a near perfect state of readiness just waiting for the beguiling presence of a certain young lady. It was not, however, prepared for the intrusion of a spaced-out NCIS agent who had ceased to be merry and was now looking decidedly seedy. Dumping McGee on the couch, Tony flipped out his cell. It was going to be a hard call to make. He had everything ready for the special meal his boyhood housekeeper had assured him would win the heart of any girl.

The connection clicked. "Ah, hi, it's me," Tony started. "Look I, ah, have to take a raincheck on that dinner." He knew she wouldn't be pleased. "No, no, not really work. One of my co-workers is a little under the weather."

He glanced up at McGee and was shocked to see his face had turned a sickly grey color, beads of sweat peppered across his upper lip. Dropping the phone, Tony hauled McGee bodily to the bathroom: there was no way his mint-fresh carpet was going to be an innocent victim. They made it by the finest of margins and Tony sank to the floor in relief as the jet stream was confined to porcelain and not wool. Suddenly he panicked: Jeanne was effectively lying on the lounge room floor dumped and abandoned. Swearing, he ran back for his cell.

"Ahh, sorry about; that: little gastro-intestinal emergency. Yes, I know you're a doctor but I really don't think you can do much for him at the moment." The thought of McGee randomly spurting personal information along with everything else was a little too much to bear.

Tony took the cell with him and found McGee moaning on the bathroom mat. Jeanne was still insistent, he stared to panic. "Look: I don't want this to be your first impression of him. I'll keep all the ingredients on ice. I promise. We'll do it all tomorrow."

McGee struggled up and grappled for the bowl again. Voice contact was lost along with McGee's stomach contents. When he had slumped face down on the floor again, Tony found Jeanne far more compliant. It was amazing what a decent sound effect could achieve. He flipped his cell shut and tucked it in his pocket.

Crouching to McGee's level, Tony noted the sweat soaking through his shirt. "Finished?"

"I think so," McGee groaned.

"Feel like a little lie down?"

"Yeah." McGee's eyes slid shut.

"Feel free to use my bathroom floor…"

Tony stood and looked down at the large body filling his tiny bathroom. It was like a blast back to his frat days with drunken students lying all over the place. He was so over that. McGee started to snore loudly: the sound reverberating around the walls. No woman, no useable bathroom: time for a movie.

An hour later, McGee appeared beside the couch under his own steam looking rumpled and pale but coherent. One side of his face was ingrained with the pattern of Tony's bathmat fibers.

"Ah, Tony?"

Tony reluctantly paused the movie in the middle of his favorite scene and looked up. "Yeah."

"What was I doing lying on your bathroom floor?"

"Wrecking the best date of my life."

"What?"

"You hungry?"

"Starving."

Tony shook his head and rose from the couch. "Have I got a dinner for you?"

* * *

"I did what!" McGee screeched. He was sitting at an intimately set dinning table watching Tony work in the kitchen.

"Yeah, it took three of us to get her free."

McGee hung his head in shame. "How am I ever going to face her in the morning?"

"Did I mention you proposed?"

McGee's head jerked up. "To Abby?"

"Not just her." Tony stopping cooking and counted off on his fingers: "Let's see: Gibbs, Ziva, Jimmy, Ducky and then Abby."

McGee squeezed his eyes shut in horror. "I didn't ask you?"

"No, and quite frankly: I'm hurt."

McGee massaged his temples. "Well if the other five turn me down, you'll be first on my list."

"That's all I ask." Tony smiled and went back to stirring his pot. "And you might want to avoid the Director for a while."

"Why?" McGee asked warily.

"Let's just say you commented on the size of her mammary glands and compared them to Abbys' and Ziva's."

"Just shoot me now."

"You did get in a good point about Ziva's sweater: even the Brady Bunch wouldn't be caught dead in it. But saying she wears Roy's orange hat because it's the only known accessory to match it, didn't go down too well."

McGee thumped his head on the table a few times until Tony took pity on him. "Nah, I'm making that last bit up."

McGee ceased his bashing and leveled a malevolent glare at Tony.

"Still hungry?"

"Yeah," McGee sighed the sigh of the damned. Tony slid a plate laden with a wondrous Italian masterpiece before him, the tantalizing aroma causing his stomach to growl impatiently. The culinary standard was a little wasted on him: he was so hungry he would have eaten cat food. McGee shot Tony a quizzical look. "You eat like this every night?"

"No, not at all."

Tony pulled out the fine red wine he had been saving for a special occasion and felt McGee's eyes on him expectantly. "Not for you," he said firmly tucking the bottle out of sight. "Ducky would kill me if I put anymore drugs into your body." At least he could save something for Jeanne.

Tony recognized he did not have McGee's full attention when his fork clattered to his plate, and he didn't pick it up again. He had been silent for a while but a closer inspection revealed that, although his empty hand was still up, McGee's eyes were closed and his head was slowly nodding on each deep breath. Tony moved the plate to one side and went to make up the couch. Then he remembered the frozen movie on the screen: he really wanted to watch that. An internal debate ensued and eventually he went into his own room and pulled down the covers of his bed.

By the time he returned, McGee was sound asleep, face down on the dinning table. Tony roused him slightly and led the groggy younger agent to the bed where he crawled in and curled up. He didn't even notice Tony gently removing his shoes and pulling up the covers.

The doorbell sounded unexpectedly and Tony raced for the door so as not to disturb his slumbering co-worker. He peeked though the spy-hole. "Jeanne?"

"I didn't feel like a raincheck."

"Oh."

Tony opened the door slowly and Jeanne maneuvered her way past him, frowning as she spied the remains of dinner for two on the table.

"Isn't that the famous dish your housekeeper taught you?" she accused inspecting the plates.

"It was a practice run."

"You're all alone?"

"Not exactly."

She looked at him, calculating what he could mean and then suddenly dashed for his bedroom. Opening the door she discovered a male lying in his bed. "Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Tony?"

--END--

Excuse the spelling, the spellchecker was fibrillating between Aussie and US.


End file.
